Zedar the Apostate
by See Sell
Summary: It seems to be something similar to what we coerced out of Aunt Pol and Grandfather me a few years ago, except written from Zedar's perspective," Garion said as he examined the peculiar document curiously. "Sounds quite interesting don't you think, dear?"
1. Prologue

AN: I've always thought our dear Zedar never got to justify his actions fully. Plus he's a good character and I like him. OK so he's a traitor and has massive problems with a little grey stone, but he's a tragic hero same as Macbeth and Othello and they got entire plays to themselves. Zedar didn't even get a book! And I reckon his version of events might be quite interesting. All right, enough self-important dribble. Let's get on with this

Oh yeah, one more thing. I'm not David Eddings, I don't own this, chances are I never will. Happy now? Good

Riva, ten years after the defeat of the dark prophecy

Belgarion of Riva looked curiously at the small parcel that had arrived from his grandfather that afternoon, courtesy of Captain Greldik. Carefully hoisting one of his tiny, red-haired daughters off his chair he tore off the wrapping. Inside was a note

Garion, (it read)

This just materialised (and I really do mean materialised) on my table last week. I've read it, and as I don't need it now, you can have it. It seems to be something similar to what you and your devious wife coerced out of your Aunt and me a few years ago, except written from Zedar's perspective.

Anyway, see what you make of it. I'm going to see if I can't discover the reason for the mountains before my eight-thousandth birthday (but with you and Ce'Nedra around that sometimes seems unlikely).

Belgarath

Garion was intrigued. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to read Zedar's autobiography, this was the man who stole the orb after all, and no mean sorcerer. Mind you, Belgarath would not have sent him a dangerous book - deliberately that is. Trouble was, Belgarath sometimes had an incredibly warped idea of what 'dangerous' was.

At that point, Queen Ce'Nedra entered his study. "Ildera! GET OFF DADDY'S DESK!" Garion winced. Evidently he'd been just a little careless when he lifted his second daughter off his seat. Fuming, Ce'Nedra turned around. Really she wasn't that much taller than Ildera, but in his mind she was a hundred feet tall. "Well!" she demanded. "What have you got there?"

"Zedar's book," Garion said in a commonplace voice. Ce'Nedra's fiery disposition evaporated immediately.

"Ooh, let me see it!" Not waiting for an answer, she simply snatched the parcel away from him. "It's not quite as long as Belgarath's was," she said critically. "But it's still rather substantial."

"I'm not entirely sure we should read it to the children just yet," Garion said rather slyly, Ce'Nedra thought. "At least," he added, "not until we've read it."

"No, we wouldn't want it to be a bad influence." Tearing off the wrapper fully, husband and wife began to read the story of the man who (when you come to think about it) actually brought them together.

AN: OK, so it's short, but it's just a prologue. Why not give me a review and tell me what you think? I'd really really like to know. I appreciate this hasn't taken off yet (if it ever will remains dubious) but still, feedback is appreciated. (PS: It's rather a good thing Zedar's book isn't as substantial as Belgarath's and Polgara's...or I'd still be writing this twenty years from now Please review -Charli 


	2. Chapter 1: Meeting Aldur

AN: I hope people enjoyed the last chapter, and thank you to anyone who reviewed. The rest of this story will be written from Zedar's perspective, so 'I' ' Zedar' (like you couldn't figure that one out). 'You' is Belgarath, as Zedar did send this to him after all. 'The others/ you all' are all the disciples of Aldur like Beldin and Beltira. Oh yes, and I am English so honor is honour and color colour is etc. Anyway, Zedar is getting desperate to tell his version of events so on with the fic…

Yumi: Thank you for your review. As to why there aren't many autobiographies out there, chances are other people aren't as mad as I am. Yep. Zedar's book starts in this chapter.

PhiloWorm: Thanks for saying you think this has potential. I hope I won't disappoint you.

Anon: Cheers, I hope you enjoy this

AEM1: Yes, this will end when Belgarath imprisons Zedar in rock, providing it doesn't end before then ;) As to how he wrote this, I hope this chapter will explain that. And thanks for the good luck – boy, am I ever going to need it.

Artania: Thanks for the confidence booster! I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you.

Finwitch: Wow. That's a really interesting idea. To be honest, I hadn't thought about the Sardian at all, but I like the plot bunny, & I'll try to encorportate it in if I can. Thanks very much for it.

Disclaimer: I'm not David Eddings, I don't own this, and chances are I never will. Happy now? Good!

Part One: A disciple of Aldur

To be perfectly honest I'm not sure why I'm writing this. You and the others will probably take this as a plea for sympathy, but you'd be wrong. (Imagine that Belgarath, you being wrong? Impossible!) This is merely an opportunity for me to tell you all what really happened – from my point of view of course. It maybe a bit different from your own. Plus, have you any idea how boring it is being imprisoned in SOLID ROCK! You really wouldn't want to. Still I suppose it's my own fault more than it is anyone else's. Writing this at least gives me something to do.

I was born in the Lands of the Arends. Growing up, I must admit to being reasonably well off – I lived in a fairly nice house with two parents and an elder sister, whose name I forget. Isn't that despicable? I loved her more than my life itself and I don't remember her name. Still, I've forgotten many names. I had a brother too – his name was Eleronin. I didn't really get on with him, he was a very typical Arend – brawny, melodramatic and not very bright. I've had more intellectual conversations with frogs than I had with him. He wasn't especially nice either. In many ways, you're very like him Belgarath.

If you want to take that comment up with me Belgarath, you'll have to move me somewhere else and then we can have a nice little chat. Otherwise, that's just too bad isn't it?

Anyway, I wasn't contented with Arendish life. I wanted something more; it was almost as if something was dragging me. Knowledge gained later told me this might exactly have been the case. The 'humorous old man in the rickety cart' (more commonly known as Aldur) is not above some fairly dubious double-dealing sometimes.

At the time, however, I blamed my religion. Yes even in those days, Chaldan was an exceedingly dull god to worship. After twenty-five and a bit years of 'you took my sheep so I'm going to kill you,' I began to get really rather bored. I've always rather wondered how everything would have turned out if I was a little easier to please. Still, I suppose a leopard can't change his spots.

Anyway, sometime into my twenty fifth year – God it seems a long time ago – I had the idea (or something gave me the idea) to look for the reclusive God Aldur. I'd heard he'd taken a young orphaned human boy as a disciple, and I thought I might as well see if I could also get accepted into this magical brotherhood. So, about a month later I set off to look for Aldur. In truth I didn't really need to look for him, as he'd already found me. He'd found me several millennia before I was even born.

My parting from my sister was painful. Mother and Father didn't especially care what happened to me – Elerorin was their favourite out of the three of us. Eler's opinion of me was at least as disparaging as mine was of him. If I remember correctly, when I told him I was leaving, he asked, "Doth this mean that thy share of our father's fortune is now mine?" I think my mother might have had a fling with a Tolnedran – I remember _my_ father never bothered about money.

But my sister was different. We were friends, though she never looked out for me and vice versa, we were both intelligent to realise that our family was rather mentally deficient and that cheating and lying could get us more than 'playing straight' could. I taught this lesson to my future brothers the hard way. I don't remember our farewell. It probably consisted of a hug and a simple statement. We didn't really do big farewells, my sister and I.

I know once, Belgarath, that I told you that I journeyed a thousand miles searching for 'Almighty Aldur,' and you didn't believe me in the slightest. I know it wasn't a thousand miles as the crow flies from my Arendish settlement to Aldur's tower, but I did quite a bit of backtracking searching for the silly place. (That sounds blasphemous I know, but I suppose I am no longer Aldur's disciple so I don't think it has to be holy for me any more). Aldur may have found me even before my birth, but I hadn't found him, as he never included a set of directions! If you add up all the walking that I did to-and-fro, I think you'll find it does up to close to a thousand miles. So there.

Do I sound dissatisfied to you? If I was dissatisfied with that, you have no idea how damn pissed off I was with my reception at the Vale of Aldur when I finally reached the wretched place.

In Arend-land at that time, a quaint custom was to sacrifice an animal – such as a goat – to a deity as a way of showing devotion and reverence. This was my first lesson really, that Chaldan and Aldur – despite being brothers – are _very_ different. Only, when I sacrificed a goat to Aldur, instead of being welcomed with opened arms into a magical brotherhood as I had hoped, I was set upon someone who was – in my opinion – rather disturbed.

If you're unhappy with that observation, Belgarath, you know exactly what you have to do about it.

Anyway, no sooner had I set my goat's dead body alight, and started to speak the holy words showing my adoration for Aldur and his glory, a figure walked up to me from a high slim tower I hadn't noticed. Even now I can remember the feelings I got – awe, respect, wonder, curiosity, fear – topped by the thought of 'God! I'm actually meeting Aldur! This is it!

The figure who approached me looked rather normal, probably a Tolnedran from his features. He was slightly more than medium height with short dark hair and a rough looking beard. He had very large wise blue eyes too – and he did not look happy.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" he shouted. This wasn't quite the response I'd hoped for. For a moment I was shocked and aghast, but then I remembered I wasn't exactly expected. I thought I'd better explain myself to Aldur.

"Oh, puissant and all knowing God!" I proclaimed, throwing myself onto the ground at his feet. "I have come a thousand leagues to behold thy glory and worship thee." Well, maybe not quite that far, even with all that wandering around.

"Puissant? Stop trying to show off your education, man! Now get up and stop this caterwauling. I'm no more a God than you are."

Ah. That wasn't expected. Perhaps I'd ended up in completely the wrong place, and would have to go on looking for a God that probably didn't exist. That was a major disappointment.

"Art thou not the great god Aldur?" I asked desperately. Maybe this God had a sick sense of humour

"I'm his disciple Belgarath." My heart leapt, I could still meet Aldur – he couldn't be far. On the downside, I'd be stuck with this foul cretin, who must be the boy I'd heard about – the one Aldur had adopted.

He then asked me what my altar was. "It's to please Aldur," I said. "Do you think he'll like it?"

He looked like he was going to laugh, "No. He'll hate it. He doesn't like killing things, Aldur doesn't."

I think I overreacted slightly then, trying to throw myself onto the burning goat to put it…somewhere, hide it, destroy it, anything. But something unseen was holding me back. "Idiot!" said Belgarath, distractedly "You'll burn yourself." Then he made it disappear! My foul altar, the blackened goat, all of it. I threw myself at his feet once again. Once again, he wasn't impressed.

Belgarath told me to get up – said I'd wear out my clothes. What a stupid excuse that was, he could have mended them in under a second, if he'd wanted. Which he probably didn't. He then told me he'd take me to his master, and the excitement started to build again.

I'm sure we talked as we walked over to that tower, but I wasn't listening, although I remember being told I would have to be Aldur's servant first if I wanted to become one of his disciples. I thought, well Aldur can't be nastier than _this_ one is.

Belgarath commanded the rock at the base of the tower to 'open,' which it did. I was astonished. Was there anything this disciple _couldn't_ do? I didn't like to dwell upon Aldur's powers, these were mind boggling enough thank you.

I can remember every moment of it – the slow climb to the top of the tower, the cool evening breeze drifting in through the open windows, the sound of the doorknob as Belgarath turned it. Seeing Aldur for the first time…

He was tall, taller than Belgarath, though there was a similar cast to his features. It struck me then that he did not resemble Belgarath so much as Belgarath resembled him, especially the eyes. It was a little creepy looking at those eyes, though they were kinder than Belgarath's ever could be. He had long white hair, and an equally long white beard – so white it made the milky floors look grey in comparison.

Aldur looked at me, and I knew he saw all of me. "Why hast thou brought this man to me, my son?" he inquired, looking at Belgarath. I was a little hurt he didn't speak to me first, but Gods are funny I guess.

Belgarath replied that "he besought me, Master." Besought! And he accused _me_ of showing off my education! I didn't really listen to the next bit – archaic language normally sends me to sleep. I did pay attention to "If it turns out he doesn't please thee, I shall take him outside, and turn him into a carrot and that shall be the end of him." I seriously debated running like mad at that point, but I wanted to hear Aldur's answer.

"That was unkindly said, Belgarath," said Aldur gently chastising. "Thou shalt instruct him. If it come to pass that he be apt, inform me. For the time being, he is thy responsibility."

Oh dear. Belgarath didn't like me anymore than I liked him. I could tell I was in for a very bad time.

AN: Okay, so there is the first chapter. I hope people enjoyed it, and please review if you think I should continue (reviews make me feel better too ) I have no idea when I will post next as I have exams hides but hopefully sooner than later.

As for my description of Belgarath, I've always thought he sounded vaguely Tolnedran – certainly more Tolnedran than anything else. And Polgara's got dark hair and blue eyes, which she didn't get from her mother, so I thought that they must come from her father.

Also, how do people pronounce Belgarath? Is it BEL-gar-ATH or Bel-GAR-ath or what?

Finally, I'm definitely going to give Zedar at least one love interest. I'm quite tempted to make it slashy and have some nice Zedar/Belmakor angst. That could be amusing. I might make Illessa infatuated by him too, or introduce an OC, but I don't think I really want to do that.


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